


Children of the Stars

by Diviiciacus



Category: Original Work
Genre: Boy's Love, Chapter one, CopxCriminal, DomxDom, Fictional Writing, Interracial Relationship, Lots of Idiocy, M//, M/M, Modern Fantasy, NYC, New York City, OC's - Freeform, Our Characters, Our Writing, Roleplay, SemexSeme, Skype RP, Yaoi, creative writing, gays, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:09:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diviiciacus/pseuds/Diviiciacus
Summary: Through his own diligence, Ash has tracked down and watched over his target for a robbery. Never one to be a teamplayer, he quickly dismisses his partner as much of anything and that mistake could later prove to result in his own downfall. However, what appears to be an easy mission turns into something much more complicated.





	Children of the Stars

Ash cut the engine of the “borrowed” truck, he was parked at a far enough distance from the building to be inconspicuous, yet was close enough to manage a very tight and controlled surveillance with cool emerald eyes over his target’s home. For the past couple of weeks, he’d been watching and waiting, learning his would-be victim’s routine until the timing felt right; the assignment he was given seemed like it was going to be decidedly straightforward—snatch the guy, make his boss happy, get paid. Simple. Ash had noted that the strange man didn’t appear to have any close relations with anyone, a recluse like he; and that should’ve meant that the male wouldn’t have been missed. However, Ash couldn’t be certain how many actually knew of this place. His boss had mentioned something about the building being both his target’s home and place of business (a museum), and Ash had witnessed some of the more outlandish visitors from time to time.

Ash let his window down some as he took a long, final drag of his cigarette before flicking the bud out the opening; he breathed out the smoke in a purposely slow exhale. A calming measure, although, Ash wasn’t feeling much of anything in that exact moment. He reached up onto his dashboard and grabbed the piece of paper he’d had sitting there for the longest, it had instructions by his boss as to how he was expected to get the job done. Ash had completely disregarded them as he crumpled it up in his fist and threw it in the glove compartment, he’d chosen to humor his bossman into believing that he was going to follow them. Nobody told him what to do or how to do it, he should’ve known better than that; and Ash would’ve accomplished the goddamn task at hand his own way. Even if this… "activity," as he’d chosen to call it, was a bit different from what he was used to. He still didn’t need his fucking hand held.

Some guy had been sent to tag along for the ride, and Ash was positive it was to keep an eye on him and make sure that things went according to plan; pressure didn’t work on Ash, although, he couldn’t help but to wonder if there wasn’t something more to it. Like something insurmountably important that his boss had chosen to leave out. Ash considered what he knew about his mark, a high elf who had sought refuge in this small town. Given how long he’d been alive for, his boss was certain he’d be a rich source of otherworldly knowledge. For what purpose, Ashtain wasn’t entirely certain, not that it mattered; he wasn’t paid to think. Ash’s green eyes flicked to the rear view mirror as he briefly glanced at the other male. Aside from the rumor mill, Ash realized he didn’t know much about him. He didn't even know if he could trust him.

What appeared to be the last customer departed from the site, and Ash waited a little longer before wordlessly popping his door open; he only paused to grab his handgun off the passenger seat and shove it in the back of his pants. Despite the falsely safe cover of night fall, Ash wasn’t going to risk a potential lurking bystander identifying him later as he flipped the hood of his hoodie up and pulled it down over his eyes to obscure them from view, in terms of disguising his appearance, there wasn’t much of anything he could possibly do about it considering his uncommon tallness. He didn’t wait for the bearded man to follow suit, he merely flashed him a signal to come along. Ash had practiced his role, and hoped that the other still knew what his part was; Ash had given him the simpler task.

Ash noiselessly circled around the large house, knowing that the front entrance of the gallery would’ve honestly been a no-go, it didn’t stop him from having a hope that he could perhaps find an open window that was carelessly forgotten about at least. The optimism was short lived after his quick scan of the outside walls, but he’d already reckoned that he wasn’t necessarily gonna be all that fortunate; especially given all the valuable possessions up front, the elf most likely had to take precautionary methods to secure his items and be fully aware of his surroundings, even though Ash failed to completely comprehend all the hype over the stuff in question. There was no sign of his so-called partner as he gradually approached the back door, not really paying attention to it; and his concentration was suddenly focused onto it as he slowly reached out to it, finding it unlocked. Ash let himself in as the weird sensation in his head continued, and instinctively ducked out of view as his target closed it shortly after. That was too bizarre to be coincidental.

Ash didn’t dare to move a muscle until he was fairly certain the unsuspecting supernatural had gone away elsewhere and slowly stood up from his uncomfortable crouching position. For a split second, he’d wondered if his sidekick had managed to find his own way in, not that he was overly concerned with him; whatever happened to him was his own fault. Ash squinted his eyes as he did his best to maneuver around in the dark space, he was only able to make out curious shapes under the lack of any real light. He’d bumped into an unseeable object and put his hand out down in front of him, feeling for it before he created a small sphere of his dark energy to provide himself with some visibility. Ash found himself facing off with a velvet rope and raised a brow, it seemed out of place and not at the same time. He carefully unlatched it and tried the door, grumbling to himself when it turned out to be locked. He began reaching into his pocket to see if he had anything to jiggle the doorknob with and stopped short as he was hit in the back of the head with a blunt object. Bingo, he’d found what he was searching for.

Beyond that door must've been the elf’s more personal quarters, and here were his two bodyguards denying Ash entry. Unfortunately for them, Ash wasn't the one that needed to go up there, he needed to clear the way for his partner. Dazed and seeing stars, Ash whipped around on his heel, his hand automatically reaching for his pistol in the back of his pants, his adrenaline kicking in. This was about to be a real fun night; however, Ash knew he needed to subdue these two as quickly and as quietly as he could, or he’d risk waking their unwitting prey, draw the attention of the neighbors, and foil the whole plot. **“Time to dance, bitches.”** Ash flashed a cruel grin as he fired off a lone shot, a shot he’d expected to alert his partner that he had things under control on his end.

**“Jamil, you haven’t seen this guy. I have seen this guy. Those photos are outdated by years and we don’t even know the full extent of his criminal history. The last time Ashtain was brought into custody was when he was charged with the murder of that family and, Jesus, Jamil, he is the biggest mother fucker I’ve ever seen and that was when he was a kid! The Butcher of Flanning Park, full grown, is a fucking monster I can’t imagine.”**

**“Hmm…”** Jamil made a noncommittal noise at his comrade and newest (try only) friend on the force and in the entire city of New York. Darren’s lean body and toned arms were tense with agitation as he leaned over the desk, his palms digging into the corners of the file covered oak top. Older by Jamil by six years and with a considerable amount of experience, Darren had a steady trigger finger and kept a cool, calculating head under stress, a trait that Jamil admired in the older cop. Although, that didn’t mean Jamil didn’t think Darren was being rather melodramatic right now. They’d been having this same conversation for the past week and a half, ever since Jamil had been selected (try enthusiastically volunteered) for the role of going undercover. His transfer from the Chicago police department had been complete for just under three weeks and in that time, the New York city PD had begun to hear ominous rumblings of gang activity that bordered on militaristic. Whisperings of recruitment, namely of desperate youths and petty criminals had surfaced and it was understandably making the NYPD nervous. The fact that they didn’t even have a name for the individual running the show, let alone a basic understanding as to the reason behind the militaristic organization, was troubling. It had been a great stretch of luck that just as the NYPD was beginning to make arrangements to tackle this developing problem that Jamil showed up, a fresh face in New York with no ties to the NYPD, eager to take the job. For the past two weeks Jamil had stayed out of uniform and away from Police Headquarters, only heading there at night and undercover, brought in in cuffs, to undergo his numerous briefings.

Chief Amelia Anderson was a petite, gray-haired woman with a sharp silver tongue and piercing, all observing blue eyes. Jamil had liked her immediately and she in turn liked Jamil, seeing a bit of herself in the cocky, sure-as-shit way the young man carried himself. Their mutual approval of one other did not stop the verbal fireworks that sparked as they bartered and swore over the details of the case Jamil would be heading. Anderson and the NYPD had already chosen the criminal partner they saw as being best fit to working alongside Jamil and gaining him access to the criminal underbelly but Jamil had taken one look at the man; a murderer and rapist named Freddy Nox and said ‘hell no.’ Nox’s record had him listed as having been found guilty of murder and rape, but in exchange for a lesser sentencing he’d been successfully working with the NYPD on several different cases over the years. For the NYPD, Nox had a proven record of trust, as they knew he could be bought but Jamil refused to work with a convicted raped and murderer who’d already cheated justice. That was only the beginnings of the fireworks between Anderson and Jamil. Jamil wanted to secure his role as a criminal, something the NYPD had fought for a time before giving in, realizing that supporting this helped to secure the success of their mission at large. But it wasn’t until Jamil had looked over the names, histories and cases of over twenty potential criminal partners and made his selection that the NYPD Chief had nearly imploded. Ashtain Wirgau, the notorious Butcher of Flanning Park. In the end, Jamil had gotten his way (as he was oft to do). Even having a hand in creating the terms for Ashtain’s involvement in the case, another detail that Jamil refused to not be a part of.

 **“Jamil, you prick. I know Anderson has already waved the green flag. I don’t know how you got her to agree to all of your demands but I’m telling you, it’s a bad idea.”** Darren groaned at him, irritated at the dismissal but knowing that the infuriating Afghani man in front of him was not going to be budged from his current position.

Removing his sneaker-clad feet from where they’d been resting atop a forgotten file for the past hour, Jamil set aside his reading glasses and fixed Darren with a relaxed, toothy grin. **“Ashtain Wirgau, so-called ‘Butcher of Flanning Park’, served thirteen years in prison for a crime that he was found not guilty of after his team of lawyers made a compelling case for his innocence. Have you read the notes on the case? Or his casefile, here? Because I did, he’s the better choice for this role.”** Reading those files and cases had taken Jamil two weeks and two bottles of aspirin, he’d damn near thrown the stack of papers out in frustration, his dyslexia forcing him to work twice as hard and three times as long just to make sense of all the words. Running a hand over his beard, Jamil tipped back in his chair and blasted Darren with a cocky, eyes half-lidded smile.

 **“Never seen the guy, just this grainy photo.”** Flicking the small mug shot dismissively across the tabletop at Darren, Jamil resettled the chair onto all four legs and leaned forward, steepling his fingers together as a shit-eat grin settled over his face. **“Sounds like he’s tall, dark and dangerous, just the way I like ‘em.”**

\-- -- -- -- --- --- ---

Tall, dark and dangerous, truly, although tall is an understatement, this guy is a fucking building. The thought crept unbidden to his mind as Jamil sat in the back of the truck, fixing Ashtain with his dark gazed through the rearview mirror. He’d insisted on getting an inside peek at the man he’d chosen to wrangle into this mess with him. Figuring that he could kill two birds with one stone, Jamil had pulled some strings, utilizing the NYPD’s information and his own anonymity to get placed on this job alongside Ashtain. Painting a history of his criminal activities was not the primary focus tonight, instead, observing Ashtain and learning the man’s quirks, his strengths, his weaknesses and the way he operated was what really interested Jamil this evening. They stayed in silence, Ashtain watching the house and Jamil alternating between scanning the house himself and studying Ashtain in the rearview mirror. When the tall, dark-haired man removed himself from the truck, signaling for Jamil to follow before disappearing around the side of the building, Jamil too climbed out of the truck. Taking a moment to ensure that Ashtain was out of sight, Jamil took a moment to re-open the truck and retrieve the crumpled piece of paper that the man had shoved unceremoniously into the glove compartment. Shoving the paper, unread, into the pocket of his dark jeans, Jamil took off around the opposite side of the building. He’d be curious to read the note later on, even if it was nothing; Ashtain’s reaction had made Jamil curious and any opportunity to learn more was one that Jamil would happily take

Pulling the hood of his own jacket up over his head, Jamil slunk close to the brick building, checking windows for an unlatched lock as he went. It wasn’t until Jamil tried a small, rectangular window that looked like it lead into a dark basement that he had any luck. Stealthily pulling the window open and removing the screen, Jamil couches and then beings to feed his body, feet first through the small door.

 _{Shit, this was a lot easier when I was a scrawny fifteen-year-old wanting beer from my neighbor’s fridge.}_ Nearly getting his shoulders wedged in the frame of the small window, it took some uncomfortable contorting and a painful twinge to his injured left shoulder before Jamil was able to slip through the window and into the basement. The light from the open window and a thin band of lamplight that flowed from under the door at the top of the stairs were the only illumination in the room, providing Jamil with just enough vision to make it to the bottom of the stairs and up to the door leading from the basement into the rest of the house. Hope this sucker is unlocked. Trying the handle, Jamil was rewarded when it twisted easily in his palm, opening with barely a whisper as he stepped out of the basement and into a narrow hallway. A plush hall runner took his weight, muting his steps as Jamil closed the door behind him and slunk further down the hallway and into a kitchen. He’d just had enough time to take in the shiny chrome of the kitchen, the glinting, overhead lights and the massive marble-topped island before a gunshot went off further in the house.

 _{Mother fucker.}_ Taking off with a quickened, but still quiet pace, Jamil strode deeper into the house after his partner, sure that it was the other man who had shot off the gun. It was just as Jamil was around the corner that he heard the tell-tale scuffling noises of multiple bodies entangled in a fighting. Prudence would have told Jamil to hang back, observe the way Ash fought and disarmed his opponents but patience and pre-planning, especially when it came to a looming fight, had never been one of Jamil’s fortes. Feeling that telltale quickening of his heart, the building excitement and the slight sharpening of his senses, Jamil rounded the corner and took in the scene. It looked like two bodyguards had discovered his not-so-stealthy partner in crime. Both of the guards were grappling with Ashtain and he could hear a third running down the hall towards them. A quick assessment of the situation told him that one guard was bleeding from the arm and the third guard running towards them was reaching for a weapon at a holster on his right side.

 _{Might be pretending to be a criminal but I don’t want this to be a bloodbath.}_ The doorway Jamil was observing from was perpendicular to the hallway that the third guard was running down. Given that it was dark and that Jamil’s door was around a corner from the hallway the third guard was running down, he figured it was a given that the man didn’t see him. Darting into the room, Jamil tucked himself besides the hall door, waiting for the guard to run through the doorway with his gun drawn and prepared to fire before he hit the guard’s outstretched arm up, grabbing and twisting the gun from the startled man’s hold as he tucked a foot behind the man’s heel and swept the man’s feet from under him. The guard toppled to his knees, fighting to get back up before Jamil hit him swiftly across the face with the end of the gun, sending blood and some teeth flying across the pristine wall before he fell unconscious.

 _{Sorry buddy, but better an ugly smile that then your life.}_ Tucking the borrowed gun into the back of his pants, Jamil turned back to Ashtain and the other guards, throwing a swift right-handed punch into the kidney of the closest guard. The man crumpled with a groan, clutching his side and Jamil followed up with a switch kick to the ribs, trying not to wince as he heard the tell take cracking of bone and the man cries out in pain. It is as Jamil re-centered himself to deal with the third guard, not wanting Ashtain to kill the man, that he feels the small, fine hair on the back of his neck stand on end. A high pitched whistling barrages Jamil’s ears, coming from the  
door behind Ashtain, as if high pressured air is being forced through every pore and crack in the solid wood door.

 **“What the fuck?!”** Jamil watched in amazed confusion as the door groans as if under a great pressure. He can see the bolts straining as the wood begins to bow out, almost as if it were made out of clay and a child had slammed their fist into it. **“Shit, get down!”** Shoving himself forward, Jamil shoved the final guard to the side and tackled Ashtain to the ground, landing bodily on top of the taller man just as the door explodes outwards in a brilliant display of raw power. A chunk of wood clipped the guard in the temple and he fell like a bag of dead meat. For a moment the room shook with the force of the explosion, pieces of the rock ceiling fell apart and down around and on top of them. A large chunk nailed Jamil in the upper ribs with bruising force and he sucked in a pained groan as more fell, dust following after before the house suddenly goes quiet.

 **“Fuck…that’s one way to open a door. Jesus.”** Glancing at the door, Jamil remains seated on/over Ashtain as he turns his dust-covered face towards the man on the ground. A grin, so out of place given that he almost got taken apart by a concussive blast, split his face. **“Well, looks like things have gone to hell in a handbasket, huh buddy? Ya good? Little winded? Don’t look too worse for wear, c’mon, get your ass up, sounds like we got a heavy hitter to deal with and you haven’t even told me what it is we’re looking for.”** Rolling his heft off of Ashtain, Jamil slides to his feet. One hand gently palpating the bruise forming on his ribs, Jamil offered the other to Ashtain to help the other man get back up on his feet. “ **So, did you know that was going to happen and you just want to keep the goodies to yourself or did that surprise the fuck out of you as much as it did me?”**

Something glinted in the dark, stealing Ash’s attention away from the two figures. Under the little light emitted by his dark power, Ashtain could make out the silhouette of a collapsible baton with a metal tip, wielded by the guard to his right. Purely out of curiosity, Ash lifted his free hand to the back of his painfully throbbing head, his fingertips brushing over some wetness; his emerald gaze rising to meet a pair of blue orbs blazing brightly with fierce determination. The man had a young face, and Ash didn’t require the usage of his mental abilities to be able to discern that this guy was looking to be the hero of tonight’s intrusion. Another shiny object stirred up mild interest in Ash as he noted something gleaming around the man’s ring finger—a wedding band. Ash’s eyes narrowed slightly, to put one’s own safety at risk in spite of the risk of leaving loved ones behind never made much sense to Ash. How disgustingly stupid and pointless, and with that, Ash concluded the moron was going to be the first one to go down; a casualty that wasn’t too unreasonable, payback, for startling the lifelong criminal. Ash lowered his bloodstained fingertips and absorbed his energy.

 **“Tch, now ya get to see where bein’ brave gets ya, dumbass.”** Ash growled through clenched teeth as he pointed his handgun toward the other, his index finger itching to fire off the fatal round into “Mr. Hero,” as Ash had dubbed him. Ash had imagined the bullet rocketing into the other’s head, searing flesh as it burned a hole through his forehead and blood and brain matter freely sprayed into the air as his entire body collapsed in on itself. However, the firearm had stalled, and Ash quickly realized he needed to change up his strategy as Mr. Hero’s partner swiftly kicked Ash’s elbow, a jolt of shooting pain spreading like wildfire throughout the length of his arm. He’d lost his grip on his pistol, but rather than have it lost to the darkness shrouded floor, Ash activated his telekinesis, keeping it within reach of his traumatized limb. **“Ya bitch, ya gonna--”** Ash angrily began, and the air violently rushed out of his lungs as a hard fist burrowed itself deep into the middle of his abdomen. That was twice now, that the younger male had managed to make a fool out of the proud convict. There wasn't gonna be a third time.

It practically took everything Ash had to not double over, not give into the burning pain radiating from his abs, knowing it quite possibly would’ve all been over if he had. Managing to suck in good few, deep breaths, astonishment succeeded his misery as the guard to his left unexpectedly dropped like a fly, his anguished scream and bones cracking resounding in Ash’s ears. In the distant hallway, Ash thought he glimpsed the outline of another male in the blackness, lying unconscious on the ground. Ash considered he’d overhead the rushing of heavy footfall earlier, though, had figured he’d deal with it when the problem ultimately presented itself to him. But, he was far from grateful that more trouble hadn’t landed in his lap as it so often did. The two of them _together_  didn’t need to be fighting these guys, why was his cohort hanging around him? Recovered from the harsh blow to his midsection, Ash started to cuss the man out; however, he didn’t get the chance to utter a single word—abruptly silenced by his own inner sense of total dread. Ash wasn’t quite sure what it was, but something just felt… wrong.

And then he heard it.

That damned high pitch sound that assaulted his already pounding head.

Any plans of this being quick and painless were out the window as the explosion erupted from behind the giant, this night was turning more and more into a shitshow, the longer this event dragged on. Had Ash been given more of a warning, he probably could’ve deflected the blast; however, the weight of a full-grown man had flung itself straight at him as they both toppled over, narrowly escaping the full force of the eruption. A sudden burst of hot air washed over them, and Ash felt the heavy impact of the debris that had mostly slammed into his partner. He wasn’t totally unscathed himself, but he doubted he’d sustained the injuries the male on top of him had. Figuring the Afghan man was knocked unconscious, Ash shifted to push him off, but was instead surprised when the man promptly sat up, jabbering away in excitement. The gaping hole in the ceiling allowed moonlight to stream into the house, giving everyone a fairly decent view of the destruction left in the wake of the truly powerful attack.

 _{What’s with this guy…?}_ Ash traced over the Afghan male’s curiously cheerful features, if this had been any other situation, the look on his face certainly would’ve been charming or irksome; given the current circumstances, it was downright strange (and annoying). Unless, he was another numbskull more than happy to sacrifice his life for this worthless cause. **“...Tch.”** Did Ash know of the being’s otherworldly abilities? Yes, and no. Yes, he did _know of_ them, but was unsure of the threat they’d pose. Thinking back, it might’ve been the same pestering inquiry he was asking himself back in the truck when he’d refused to read the note’s contents. Without a doubt, it was too late to do so now, but truthfully, Ashtain didn’t think that it would’ve made that much of a different but perhaps that was his arrogance rearing its ugly head around again making him look like an ass. “ **Look**.” Ash didn’t accept the offered hand as he climbed unsteadily to his feet. “... **Just stay out of my way.”** In all the confusion, the high elf unmistakably had seized the opportunity and fled, forcing Ash to open his mind up more as he searched for the supernatural’s mental presence.

 _{Don’t you know how rude it is to snoop around in someone else’s mind?}_ Ash was immediately greeted by the elf’s furious accusation. He visibly winced in response to the booming voice in his head, tempted to withdraw himself from the peculiar man’s mind, although, remained fixated on his stream of thoughts and rough location. He was somewhere close by, a section of the manor Ashtain had already passed, the elf’s form concealed by the shadows, his lean body looming over what appeared to be a safe; its combination clear to the telepath. _{Is your curiosity sated, vermin?}_ Came again the projection of the high elf’s miffed vocals. Ash was perplexed why he could plainly view the nonhuman’s deeper thoughts until he was forcibly shoved out by a mirror-like walk that manifested itself like a fortress, protecting the elf’s secrets. Nonetheless, Ash had seen all he’d ever needed to know about him. The item they were after was a mysterious glass stone that didn’t look like much to the naked eye, yet was extremely valuable to the elf, or Liam as Ash had discovered his name to be. It had once been his old kingdom’s legendary weapon, at least until, the angels stepped in and ruined everything for them. Presently, the demons were interested in the power stored within the stone, the last one of its kind. It dawned on Ash that Liam had foreseen their arrival, but why not run while he still had the chance?

 **“Something’s not quite right…”** Ash murmured more to himself than his accomplice. **“The rock,”** he started, **“we need that rock.”** He spoke up louder, deciding to answer his associate after all. **“It gives off an aura, you’ll know it when you see it. Looks like a kid threw up a rainbow all over its surface. Revolting, really. You find it, I’ll distract him. This way.”** He added as he spun around, dashing off in the direction of the gallery. Of course it was in the gallery, he had other priceless valuables up front; it made the most sense that Liam had chosen to hide it in plain sight among his collection. The only problem was, Ash hadn’t been able to distinguish the safe’s whereabouts; just that it was tucked away in one of the elf’s standing exhibits. Ash barged into the museum part of the house, calculatively ramming into a couple pieces of the supernatural’s assemblage, earning his attention as a well-aimed pressure wave was dispatched to Ash’s general area. Though Ash was better prepared this time as he gathered his dark energy for a counterattack, flinging an impressive spiraling ball of his own chaotic power to slice through the equally as impressive display of power projected by the other.

 **“Is that best ya can do, ya old fuck?”** Ash taunted, keeping in mind that part of the objective was to capture his opponent as well—if they could.

 **“** Yeah **sure man, whatever you say. If you think you had three guards handled all by yourself, who am I to disagree with you.”** Cheekily, Jamil gave Ash a once over, his eyes lingering on the goose egg that was starting to form on the back of Ash’s head. Right man, because they didn’t have you cornered and nearly beat, right? Keep telling yourself that.

Astain’s refusal to accept his outstretched, calloused palm came as no surprise to Jamil; the man was, after all, a criminal with a history of being somewhat of a loner. Unperturbed by Ashtain’s surly attitude, Jamil just tucked his hand back against his body and sent his partner a small eye roll, the corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement. _Ain’t going to win many friends over with that carefree attitud_ e, he thought briefly. With his ears still ringing, ribs throbbing and his body positioned in front of and facing Ashtain, Jamil completely missed the bodyguard who had slowly begun to crawl to his feet and advance towards them. He’d wrongly assumed that between himself and the blast, all of the bodyguards were down for the count so when Ashtain raised his gun, Jamil automatically assumed that the taller man meant to shoot him. At the drop of a hat his training kicked in. Dropping quickly down into a crouch, Jamil threw himself into a full body roll, wanting to put some distance between himself and Ashtain. Sliding cat-like back onto his feet, Jamil pulled the gun tucked securely into the back of his jeans and aimed it at Ashtain from a crouched position. His finger just on the side of the trigger, preparing to fire when Ashtain’s gun rang out and the lifeless body of the last security guard dropped to the floor like a sack of meat.

Stunned that Ashtain hadn’t actually been aiming at him and that the other man had just shot and killed a man, point blank, Jamil just stared, his finger on the side of his gun and not on the trigger. “What the fuck…” You didn’t need to kill him, Jamil’s mind rang out as he slowly got back up to his feet, sliding the gun back into its position at the small of his back. A mild nausea overtaking his stomach as he eyed the dead body on the ground, but of course he couldn’t just go around telling Ash that watching him kill a man made Jamil’s skin crawl. So instead he settled for shooting Ashtain a narrowed eyed look. **“Give a guy a little warning, I was about to take your head off. Thought that was aimed** for **me, next time, don’t point a fucking gun in my face unless you plan to shoot me.”** Trying to shake off some of the underlying anger towards Ashtain, Jamil rolled out his shoulders and plastered a cocky, shit-eating grin across his face. He’d known what he’d be working with; known that casualties would happen and he’d still agreed to go through with this mission. In the law of large numbers, a few dead innocents for the greater good was a price he was willing to pay, but it didn’t mean Jamil enjoyed it; he simply understood that it was what it was.

Taking a step towards Ashtain, his gun put away and no longer a threat, Jamil had been about to open his mouth to demand what their next move was when the tall criminal started to double over, clutching his head in his hands. **“Shit, they concuss you?”** It was possible, after all, Ashtain had taken a brutal hit to the back of the head but Jamil had never seen someone respond to a concussion the way that Ash was now. What the hell is going on? Either this guy is completely out of it or he’s got something like I have. The idea of Ashtain having powers had been at the back of Jamil’s mind ever since he’d started to review the other man’s case. The trouble was that there was no proof and even if there was, it wouldn’t tell Jamil what he was dealing with. Still, when dealing with a man who outweighed him by probably fifty pounds, had a longer reach and a length history as a criminal, Jamil wasn’t about to assume anything was off the table. But letting Ashtain know would key the other man off. Keeping a wary distance between the two of them, Jamil studied Ash as the man began to spout off nonsense, something about things being ‘not right’ (whatever the fuck that meant, Jamil was pretty sure a door imploding obviously fell under the categories of ‘not right’) and a rainbow rock, apparently the whole reason they were in this mess to begin with.

 **“Okay, lead the way. I’ll cover your flank.”** Since Ashtain was the only one of them who seemed to know where the hell they were suppose to find a ‘rainbow rock’, Jamil took off after the taller man, maintaining a relatively safe distance between them (just in case another door wanted to implode, it’d hit Ash first). The distance between them was why Jamil missed Ash using his powers, only entering the room after, **when the elf had disappeared again and a hole in the wall was raining down chunks of debris.** Turning the corner Jamil entered the galley alongside Ash, a large room filled with antiques. Suits of ancient armor were standing eerily in the corners, gigantic paintings on the walls, vases, swords and large glass displays with other antiquated pieces took up the majority of the rug covered floor. Dimly, Jamil could feel goose bumps rising up his forearms and across the back of his neck as he took in the dark, quiet room. A quick, professional search of all the corners told him that no one was lurking there, awaiting a moment to spring a surprise attack but something was definitely, as Ash had stated ‘off.’ He just couldn’t put a finger on what, the room felt oppressive, and the air almost heavy, like a physical thing that wanted to block his movements.

 **“** Ashtain **, what is this place…and how the hell are we suppose to find a ‘rainbow rock’ in this fucking mess?”** Creeping further in to the room, his amber eyes scouting the area for any trace of a would-be attacker or the so called ‘rainbow rock’, Jamil pulled his gun from the back of his pants and held it in a ready stance. The lack of space in the room for maneuvering made Jamil distinctly unhappy about Ashtain having chosen this location for some kind of climactic take-down but beggars can’t be choosers. For several heartbeats nothing moved, only the continued fall of debris hitting the floor and just the flickering of a dark shadow that Jamil had dismissed as the shadow of a curtain moving in the window. Except with a lithe, white haired man stepped out from darkening shadow like it was a goddamn door. In one closed fist, between his fingers was the sparkling of a shiny, multi-colored object, giving Jamil just enough time to assume that the strange man was holding the stone when the elf sent another blast of compressed air at both Jamil and Ashtain. Rolling through a panel of glass to avoid the blast, Jamil knocked into a suit of armor before he was able to get back on his feet and turn, loosing a shot at the other man. Bits of glass fell from his hair, small chunks stuck into the flesh of his forearms, bleeding slowly as they oozed red down his arms.

The bullet Jamil let loose at the elf forced Liam to drop the small stone, he cursed as it rolled away from him, lodging under a large stone chest. **“Thieves! Remove yourselves from my home before I snap your spines!”** The white haired man spat at them, his image shifting as he partially morphed back into the shadow. **“Fucking shit, you watch my back, I’ll grab that rock.”** Jamil hollered at Ash, releasing a few other bullets at the molted shape of the elf before dashing towards where he’d last seen the small orb roll under a chest. He’d barely made it three strides before something grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, lifted him bodily from the ground and threw him forcefully into Ashtain. For the second time that night, Jamil found himself crumpled onto of the other man. Slightly dazed, Jamil rolled off of Ash and unsteadily back onto his feet, blinking the stars from his eyes just quick enough to watch the intimidating suit of armor he’d hit step down from its platform. The heavy metal weight of its steps shaking the floor as it lofted a sword, empty eye sockets glowing a faint green from the ruin in the back of the helmet.

**“…Fuck…let’s get this goddamn rock and split.”**

The near-excessive amount of the unstable energy he’d lobbed at the elf inevitably would’ve caused him to meet with an untimely end; however, Ash observed with narrowed, skeptical eyes as something rather curious unfolded before him. It was only for a split second but he saw it, exactly what he saw, he was ambivalent of, regardless, he had seen something. He almost convinced himself that he’d watched as the elf seamlessly dissolved into the lurking shadows behind him, superficially coordinated with the moment that Ash’s menacing sphere attack would’ve collided with the unnatural being head-on. An unusual observation indeed, although, Ash couldn’t help but to speculate if he possibly wasn’t hallucinating, his intense headache bordering a migraine. The weakened and divided frontal cone of Liam’s surging power continued speeding toward Ashtain and Ash instinctively lifted his strong arms defensively in front of himself as he soaked the majority of the gusting power harshly sweeping over him, angrily driving him backwards; his leather boots gliding over the carpeted floor. Once the blustery barrage halted, Ashtain slowly lowered his arms, his vigilant viridescent orbs instantaneously scouring his immediate area, searching for any sign of the powerful creature; his doubtful mentality still unable to fathom what his sharp vision had witnessed.

He had but a moment of silence before Jamil rounded the corner, resuming his annoying laundry list of dimwitted inquiries, making Ash groan audibly. His accomplice sure did enjoy hearing the sound of his own voice. _{Always late to the party, huh guy?}_ How could this man, his supposed partner, not even know the most intrinsic components of their shared assignment for this evening? His previous suspicions concerning the olive-skinned male resurfaced; however, Ashtain considered the fact that he frankly just didn’t trust anyone—he was merely trusting this sketchy man even less. Jamil was also nonwhite and it was contentious where his genuine allegiance may lie. Ash’s course of contemplation gradually shifted to their boss and his “method” of leadership. It wasn’t too far from the old man’s style to leave out bits and pieces of essential information as he’d done with this mission and plenty of other times before. In all honesty, Ash was secretly sanguine that he’d lost the Afghani man, that he’d been mystified by his earlier directions as Ash had known they hadn’t been all that comprehensible.

 _{Kid’s smarter than he looks.}_ Despite the apprehension that steadfastly gripped his head, Ash regrettably understood he had no rational foundation to mistrust his associate, and conclusively dismissed his misgivings about the other; and chalked it all up to his incessant paranoia. In spite of the reality that they’d pinpointed Liam within his own place of residence relatively quickly, they continued to unceasingly squander precious time dilly dallying inside the building, trying to surpass the fantastical character at his own game. The longer they lingered within the two-story museum-house’s walls, the better the likelihood was that law enforcement was going to catch up to them and jeopardize their little operation. Someone presumptively would’ve called the pigs by now, if they already hadn’t; and Ashtain envisioned himself being manhandled and involuntarily climbing into the back of an awfully cramped patrol vehicle. Ash wasn’t about to have that, any of that; the authorities already had unjustly stolen away a decent portion of his life.

 **“...Beats the fuck out of me.”** Ash answered with a slight shrug, even though he was presented with a reasonably vivid mental depiction of where the elf had disappeared to, some elements of the image had still been obscure—definitely the elfin man’s intervention; there’d been an absence of pronounced indicators as to the colorful crystal’s definitive location. As far as Ash was concerned, the supernatural’s entire accumulation of artifacts and antiques alike all appeared to be one in the same, especially under the new source of insufficient illumination now coming from the moon’s white glow outside the museum’s double glass doors. Ash had reasoned with himself that it was perhaps best to worry about the damned relic after they’d contained this exacerbating mayhem. The ambush scarcely caught Ashtain off guard as he prepared for a counterattack, yet, his abnormal powers supposedly at the disposal of his fingertips outright refused to retaliate in response to his internal order. That was exceptionally strange given his energy’s habitual homicidal tendencies. Perplexed by this new development, Ash had no time to formulate another countermeasure and dived behind the trivial protection of an adjacent glass case. Liam’s threat was the least of his worries…

Ash kept his head down as he listened to the vigorous gales piercingly howl around him followed by the ear-splitting shattering of glass and deafening bang of a single shot being fired. The seemingly fragile glass display mitigated the brunt of the stormy batter nicely, sustaining a few shallow cracks on its transparent surface. Raising his head, Ash’s verdant eyes followed a multi-colored, oval-shaped object tumbling across the carpeted ground before it disappeared from his line of sight. That, Ash acknowledged, was identical to the stone he’d glimpsed in the temporary telepathic connection he’d briefly shared with their target. Ash hurriedly pushed himself to his feet, his green gaze trained on the general vicinity of where he’d last tracked the prized rock, and on all accounts, was oblivious to the fact that his partner was considerably closer. His tunnel vision breaking as he was brought back down to earth by Jamil’s voice, resulting in a thin frown from the independent man. He hadn’t liked the partnership from the beginning, nonetheless, Ash perceived that the odds were more in the other’s favor.

...Or so he thought.

The first time he’d been toppled over by this lamebrain, Ash managed to steer clear of slamming the back of his head onto the hard flooring, ultimately avoiding a blackout. However, this time, luck would turn out to not be on his side. Tripping over an unseeable item—no doubt one of the many things scattered by Liam’s rage—Ash fell hard, landing with a harsh thud; his head noisily whacking against the solid ground beneath him. The shock of the collision reverberated throughout his entire body as he cried out in pain, powerless to even lift a finger as he struggled to restrain his eyes from rolling into the back of his head. His eyesight grayed, and his already murky surroundings blackened completely as the world faded from view. Again, the Arab’s voice jarred Ashtain out of whatever trance he was in as he came to once more. The heavy footsteps from the living suit of armor was more than enough to get Ash unsteadily back on his feet. Ash had only been out cold for a short few moments, but it felt more like hours considering how exhausted he felt.

Since Ash was incapable of utilizing his dark powers offensively, Ash didn’t know how the hell they were supposed to ward off the animated suit of armor. It seemed to be immune to his telekinesis as he attempted to exert his will over it and influence it to stop, and it lacked a brain for him to manipulate. Normally able to think on his feet, Ash was dumbfounded, the trauma he’d endured to his head wasn’t helpful, the room was fucking spinning and it left him in no condition to scheme; Ash wasn’t about to concede failure, but the outlook of their current situation was quite bleak. With each step the armor took, the further it closed in on them. Splitting up sounded like a good enough proposition and then what? The elf was bound to be lying in wait somewhere, anticipating another opportunity to launch one more ambuscade, finishing them off once and for all. Their only other alternative was to flee, and recognizing how spineless that act truly was shaped it to be Ash’s last resort. _{Fucking hell.}_ And in that instance, a lightbulb went off in Ash’s puzzled brain.

 **“...Yeah… Let’s… let’s split up. You go that way, I’ll go this way.”** Ash said ambiguously as he reached down and grabbed something with some weight, probably a chunk of the wall he’d blasted a hole into, and heaved it at the suit of armor, a booming clang resounding as the slab made contact with its target; provoking the man made thing into chasing after him. Ash took off/stumbled toward the nearest corner of the gallery, where he’d noticed a twin of their iron foe. Ash ran up to the thankfully unmoving armor and seized the sword in its grasp, jerking and wrenching on the hilt until he liberated it from the iron man’s uncompromising hold in time to parry a swift swing from his metal opponent advancing upon him from behind. Damn, that thing could move, and Ash wasn’t experienced in the slightest in the skill of sword fighting; the force of the swords clashing vibrated painfully into his wrist. Ash quickly ducked out of the way as the empty shell of armor brought down the sword on him again, catching him by a few hairs on his throbbing head as it shaved off a few stray short pieces. Ash returned the favor by impossibly twisting his body around, slashing wildly at the menacing plated humanoid and decapitating the helm.

Now, with someone that was mortal, that would’ve terminated his existence. That wasn’t the case here so much as Ash could only watch as the armor, unfazed, continued its savage onslaught as it charged at him yet again, headless.

 **“...You gotta be shitting me.”** Ash complained, his eyes growing wide. Officially out of ideas, Ash turned to make a run for it. ...And crashed into the elf attempting to recover his colorful possession. The two both exchanged bewildered glances before the supernatural readied himself for another one of his windy attacks, and Ash desperately scrambled to maneuver himself out of taking another volley head-on; the armor trailing him hoisting up its razor-sharp weapon for a concluding deadly swipe.

 **“** Oh **nin** aen **!”** Liam shrieked as his own crimson liquid spurted from the gaping laceration to his shoulder, his minion instantly slumping over.

**“You gotta be shitting me.”**

_{Don’t I wish I was}_ , the thought rang sharply in Jamil’s head as he dove for cover away from both Ashtain and the newly pissed off, walking suit of armor. Slipping behind a large stone chest, Jamil took a knee and leveled his gun at the sword wielding metal giant, trying to blink the blood out of his eyes as he took aim and rang off three successive shots. The suit of armor didn’t even falter a single step, just continued to advance upon Ashtain, clearly intent on taking off his head with its giant sword. What the fuck is going on!? Mothing fucking rainbow stones, bloody sword swinging iron men and a shadow melding man?! If Jamil hadn’t just spent a few previous moments worrying that his companion had suffered irrefutable brain damage from their last collision, he might have thought that he was the one suffering from a concussion. Groaning from his own throbbing headache and the red, thick bloody stinging in his eyes, Jamil cursed as he shot off the last bullets in the gun’s chamber, throwing the now useless gun at the armored giant as well. Expectedly, it clanged hopelessly against the metal torso. I might as well be tossing aluminum cans for all the good a gun has done me, he thought bitterly. Jamil had thought he’d had a good grasp on the situation, what he was getting himself into but oh, how quickly shit went to hell in a handbasket.

In all his years as a police officer, Jamil had never seen a suit of armor manifest a will of its own, let alone one that seemed hell bent on destruction. There had been a vast array of alarmingly and surprising situations that he’d dealt with in the past, having his own strange, unexplainable powers made Jamil more opened minded about the infinite possibilities the world held. But moving, animated suits of armor? Wasn’t that some cinematic shit?!

 **“The fuck..! Just lead him away! Don’t fight it!”** Panting and exasperated, Jamil chose to pointedly ignore Ash’s suggestion that he ‘go this way’ while Ash went ‘that way.’ Instead he quickly skirted the advancing suit of armor; dashing closer towards the last place he’d seen the glowing, luminescent stone while simultaneously keeping an eye on his obviously suicidal partner. Jamil couldn’t decide whether the other man was stupid or brave, no, decidedly stupid. What fool tried to stand toe to toe with a four hundred pound tank of armor with an ancient, rusted sword? The obvious thing to do would be to bait the creature into a separate room, trap it and then double back, a thing that size and weight would not be able to move with the same sure-footed nimbleness of a creature made flesh and bone. Watching Ash back himself up into a corner just solidified for Jamil that the quicker he found the stone, the faster he’d be able to ensure that his new found partner didn’t get himself beheaded.

Trying to staunch the flow of blood dripping from his hairline and down into his eyes and mouth, Jamil had just managed to regain some of his eyesight when Ash turned to evade the suit of armor and ran smack dab into Liam. Horrified, knowing he wouldn’t be able to make it in time, Jamil ran and slid towards the pair as he watched the sword begin its descent towards Ashtain’s head. There was no plan involved, just the chance that he could knock Ash out of the way. Apparently he needn’t have bothered, as Ash skillfully avoided the blow, dodging to the side and letting Liam take the hit in his place.

 **“** Oh **nin** aen **!”** The words rang with power, effectively toppling the armor even as the white-blonde haired man sagged backwards and to his knees, gripping his shoulder where the fabric of his shirt was quickly becoming saturated with blood.

 **“I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you for what you’ve done!”** Liam spat, snarling. Pink, blood frothed spittle flying from his mouth as he aimed a clawed, curled palm at Ashtain, intending to blast him up close with his attack. It was a simple thing for Jamil deliver the heel of his foot into Liam’s head, not with enough force to kill him but the strike put the other man on his ass, out cold. A puddle of crimson beginning to form under Liam’s prone body, soaking Jamil’s dark jeans and staining his hands as he kneeled there, panting with exertion before sliding his hand under the chest to retrieve the stone.

All this, for a fucking gay ass stone. He thought miserably, staggering to his feet and pocketing the rock into his pants as he tried to wipe off the blood on his shirt; leaving two gaudy, smeared handprints. Holding his bruised ribs, Jamil eyed Ash briefly before studying Liam, watching for the rise and fall of his chest. Everything hurt, his ribs pulsed with a white-hot pain and the blood was dripping back into his eyes, making him have keep the left one clenched shut. With his pants and palms saturated with blood and the glass shards still embedded in his arms and back, Jamil was a mess and Ash, with that large goose egg, didn’t look much better.

 **“Fucking Christ, I got it. You alright? We need to get out of here, I’ve had enough of fucking** sword-wielding **suits of armor and whatever other weird ass shit is going down here. I want a bigger cut, too much fucking trouble.”** Surreptitiously, under the guise of checking the stone in his back pocket, Jamil stuck his hand into his pants and pressed the button on the small GPS strapped to his upper thigh. The activation would alert his unit as to his location and ensure that emergency medical services made it to the museum in time to assist the unconscious men that they’d left in their wake. The cops failing to show up at all would be suspect and getting himself hauled off to the police station in cuffs was a sure fire way to solidify his cover.

Withdrawing the stone from his pocket, Jamil palmed it for a moment before holding it out in offering to Ash. Some of the blood from his palms he’d been unable to rub away coating the smooth, radiant surface, turning it slick and dark, dulling the myriad of colors; far off in the distance Jamil’s ears could just pick up sirens. Thank god, he was exhausted and wanted a shower, needed one badly.

 **“Shit! We** gatta **leave him,** c’mon **, back to the car!”**

Liam’s excruciating scream echoed loudly in Ash’s ears, and Ash knew he couldn’t take on another blast of the other’s wicked power as he braced himself for another psychic explosion of winds, but was pleasantly relieved as his accomplice suddenly struck their adversary down; his blood pooling around his unmoving body. Ash accidentally stepped into the growing crimson puddle, almost slipping as he steadied himself again, and it was within the glistening pool of fresh blood he saw miserable, dark reminders of his past.

He was a teenager again, standing outside the ordinary, sturdy single-story house of his pseudo-family. It was pouring rain, and the dark clouds thundered furiously above, occasionally lighting up as lightning cackled in their depths. Ash was drenched from head to toe and shivering madly. He wanted nothing more than to escape nature’s frigid wrath, and yet, he remained outside, continuing to endure the torrential rains as he stared down the plain wooden front door. His sixth sense cautioned him not to go on inside, detecting something horrendous lying in wait for him on the other side of the entrance. His desperate desire to find warmth was superior to his uneasiness, and he’d scarcely touched the doorknob as the door itself fell from his grasp, landing with an unmelodious thwack. Shocked, but no longer hesitant, Ash stepped into a whole new tempest, calamitous in contrast to the one viciously howling behind him.

The scene was like something out of a horror movie. The interior was blanketed in a deep scarlet color, the floor, the walls, and the ceiling were all thickly coated with blood and gore, the metal smell of the standing blood assaulted Ashtain’s nostrils relatively quickly. The house was wrecked, the family’s belongings strewn about as the markings of an outrageously violent struggle. A lamp lie smashed to pieces adjacent to the splintered coffee table, the end table the lamp was originally sat on was missing. The family’s computer ordinarily hugging a faraway corner of the living room had been wrenched out of its power socket and thrown against a wall, its screen completely shattered; and even the cushions of the couch had been split open, the stuffing out on display. Laying on the ground was several sharp, bloodstained instruments, ranging from knives to a table leg ripped off the kitchen table, that had been tossed around; no doubt used to dispense whatever measure of damage they’d caused. The tools virtually formed a grisly trail, and the credulous teen followed it to the senseless slaughter of the first two victims: the mother and father.

Ash should’ve discontinued his investigation there, then he wouldn’t have had to witness the savagery that had transpired just hours earlier that day, forever etched into his mind. The father’s face was unrecognizable, and Ash preferred to believe he’d blotched out that gruesome memory, when in reality, the man’s face had been ripped to shreds, his identity undeniably destroyed as some of his teeth rested in the blood oozing from what remained of his practically obliterated head. The mother’s face was left intact, although, her eyes looked strangely sunken in. Ash didn’t know it at that point, but both of her eyes had been gouged out of their sockets and one had been stuffed down her throat, causing her premature death. Both bodies were naked, their wrists and ankles bound, and both had been torturously beaten into bloody pulps; covered in what looked like hundreds of stab wounds. Ash had no way of knowing about the third unfortunate victim, and lone survivor, because he hadn’t gone any further than that room of death before he lost his composure. The detectives that had examined the heinous crime scene would later divulge that neither victim had been dead for very long in the timeframe Ashtain had discovered them in, and they probably would’ve still been warm.

Ash visibly shuddered as the flashback ended, his adrenaline replaced by fear. It hadn’t been his fault, he wasn’t the one to blame; but he was. He brought that terror straight to their doorstep, and they’d paid with their lives for housing the likes of him. Ash promptly thought of the young security guard earlier and how he’d wanted to terminate him. He was suddenly remorseful as taking one’s life had never been as pleasurable as he’d hoped it to be.

 **“...Jesus fucking** christ **, do you ever fucking quit talking?”** Ash snarled, although, he was grateful for the other male’s voice again. It gave him something else to focus on, and sidetracked him from his buried emotions that persisted in their durability, even after all these years of harboring them. Ash eyed the stone in the other’s outstretched palm, incapable of pinpointing which hand truly held the real thing in its grasp. He made a face at the blood caking it and grabbed for it, hissing as an invidious sensation greeted his hand. Shaking his hand as if to shake the pain away, Ash pulled the sleeve of his hoody over his hand, quickly snatching the bloodsoaked rock from Jamil’s clutches; the makeshift glove did nothing to lessen the afflictive aura emanating from the stone. Ash was unable to understand why he couldn’t so much as touch the stone while his partner could, and shoved the stone into the hoody’s front pocket. He was soon worried with other matters like getting the fuck out of there as he heard the remote shriek of sirens headed their way, his frightful prediction coming to life.

His adrenaline gone, and his anxiety escalating, Ash felt the full effects of the terrible condition his body was in. He had double vision, and didn’t know if he could drive. His blood was roaring in his ears and he could barely hear anything anymore. His legs felt sluggish, and he knew he wasn’t exactly up for a chase. Yet, he found the strength to keep going as he stumbled out the double doors of the museum-house and toward the truck, attempting to start it up. The engine revved, but much to his dismay, the sound it made fizzled out into a sickly sputter before utterly dying out altogether. Ash made the split-second decision to attempt to flee on foot, only thinking of saving himself as he left his partner behind without a word to him. Staying together would’ve only increased their chances of getting caught, and Ash would’ve thrown his cohort under the bus if they had. He spotted some poor woman who had the bad timing of leaving her residence at that moment, and pounced on the opportunity as he pulled out his switchblade and pointed it at the front of her throat.

 **“Get the fuck back inside, go, I said fucking move it!”** Ash shouted at her as he dug the knife further into her skin, enough to draw a small bead of blood, and hustled her back into her apartment, slamming the door shut behind himself. The frightened woman began pathetically crying, and it added to Ash’s irritation. **“Shut the fuck up, slut. Ya got nothing to worry about s’long as you do what I say, got it? I ain’t gonna hurt you.”** He snapped at her, watching as she flinched away from him before giving him a very slight nod of understanding. “ **Good girl.”** He frowned and moved them into her kitchen, sitting across from the rattled woman. A few minutes passed, and there was an abrupt hard knock on the door. Ash’s blood ran cold, knowing exactly who it was, and quickly devised a plan. **“I hope you’re fucking good at acting.”** He barked at the girl as he forced her back on her feet, holding the blade of his knife to her back as he followed her to the front door. The woman’s performance was shaky, but it seemed as though the police officer believed her and finally departed the premises. It felt like an eternity before things quieted outside, and Ashtain eventually took his leave as well, arriving at his boss’s home.

Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold; signifying the end of his longest, drawn-out night ever. However, Ashtain still couldn’t crash out as much as he would’ve liked to, he needed to make sure that his prize was safely delivered to the fucker that had sent him on the wild mission. The man opened the door to him, more astonished by his battered appearance than displeased by the timing of Ash’s visit; he hadn’t been asleep anyway, and never seemed to sleep either, a peculiar quality of the man Ashtain had discovered some time ago. **“Gotchur** shit’n’ass **stone.”** Ash spat at him as he entered the elderly man’s home, presenting the stone for him to see as he took a tired seat on the man’s recliner. The older male gaped at the stone and plucked it from its spot in Ash’s sleeve.

 **“You’ve done quite well, Ashtain…”** The man purred, and Ash observed as his fucking skin began melting away. Yes, melted, and gave way to a new appearance of a purple-skinned creature with pale lavender hair, bright orange eyes, devil horns, and a tail ending in an upside down heart. He cupped Ash’s chin, an unknown power working to sway Ash under his spell. **“I do believe it is time for you to meet the prince… But rest first, hm?”** He softly stroked under the giant’s chin, watching as Ash’s confounded eyes drifted close, and his body slowly degenerated into magical dust and flew out an open window.

**Author's Note:**

> *Ongoing roleplay between myself and my friend on Skype, Loon.  
> *Ash is my character, Jamil is hers.  
> *This is for fun so critique on our writing is welcomed but not particularly desired.  
> *Multiple sources were used for inspiration and any similarities are pure coincidences and nothing more.  
> *Original version was taken down because of reasons.


End file.
